Saints & Arrows
by damngeeks
Summary: Connor and Murphy, along with their friend Romeo, escape the concrete walls of the Hoag, but under disastrous circumstances. After meeting a hunter accompanied by a girl from Georgia, and rescuing a woman in Brunswick; the newly formed group must try to survive the end of the world. Will they cross any other survivors, and more importantly, can others be trusted?
1. Chapter 1 - In the beginning

**A/N - I'm aware that in many stories involving the MacManus brothers & Daryl Dixon the writer likes to write the speech as the characters would say it; for example ta instead of to, yer instead of your. I am trying to avoid that as I can trust the reader will be imagining those accents in their mind anyway. (I have nothing against people who write that way obviously!) I have used ya instead of you, that's my one exception!**

**Please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. I can take constructive criticism & I would like to know if my readers are enjoying the story. **

**Please see the links on my profile to get a better picture of what the characters look like (especially the OCs) Also I have made a promo cover for my fanfic which is also linked in my profile.**

**Enjoy!**

**Lx**

**May 13****th**** 2010 - Boston**

"I need to get those cigs back off that greasy, thieving bastard!"

Connor eyed Murphy pace back and forth in the cell they shared. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his younger twin this enraged, of course he was well aware of his brother's short fuse; but he knew there was going to be a riot any minute now.

"Look Murph, we need to keep our heads down, wait for Eunice and Smecker ta get us out of this shit hole. Then we can have all the cigs we can shove down our throats. Just leave it brother, I'm asking ya."

Connor watched his brother's face turn an angry shade of red, his eyes locked on his.

"Con! You heard the way that arsehole Maxwell spoke to me!" Murphy's eyes snapped away from the gaze they had both been holding, and he continued to storm around the tiny concrete room, "I should of broke his jaw there and then! Clever piece of **_shit_**!"

Connor jumped at the sound of Murphy's fist smashing into the cell door. The darker haired brother had lost it now. Connor rushed to his side to check his hand, which was already swollen and starting to bruise.

"What the _hell _Murph! You aint gonna be no good to anyone with a broken hand! Just calm down brother, let me talk to him."

Murphy looked up at his twin brother and sighed, "You don't have to fight my battles Connor, and I'm not a baby. I'm only six minutes younger than ya."

Connor placed his forehead against his brother's and closed his eyes briefly, "I know Murph, but you're my blood. _I love you_ and I don't wanna see ya hurt. We're almost free of this place, we don't wanna mess this up."

Murphy pressed his nose onto Connors before shuffling back to reveal one of his famous cheeky Irish grins, "Always the calm one Con. If he as much as touches ya though, I'll break his neck."

Connor rolled his eyes as he slipped through the cell door, "I'll be back in ten with your stupid smokes." He smiled.

To be honest, Connor was desperate for the cigarettes too. Smokes were hard to come by when locked up and that made it even worse when some 'tough guy' helped himself to your stash. It made Connor mad, not as mad as his hot headed brother, but all the same he was very annoyed. If it wasn't for the fact that their friends on the outside were in the middle of busting them out of prison, Connor wouldn't be approaching the man civilly; he would be punching him clean in the face and putting him in his place.

Connor approached the man who was sitting at a table, playing cards with some other arseholes. On spotting the Irishman, Maxwell got to his feet, puffing his chest out, his eyes narrowing in on Connor. He was one big son of a bitch. Not as much muscular, more tall and broad; he had to be at least 6ft 4. Connor felt slightly threatened as he only stood at 5ft11, but he soon picked up courage as he remembered the 'big guys' he and 5ft10 Murphy had taken care of in the past with their Berettas.

"Could I have a word Maxwell?" Connor spoke sharply as to show he wasn't afraid.

The taller man stepped closer to Connor, an evil smile crawling onto his smug face. "What do you want Mick? Come to beg for your smokes? Well too bad, they're mine now." He laughed and his idiot crew joined in with the laughter.

_Stay calm Connor lad, think of the outside. _Connor told himself in his head. "You took something that belonged to me and my brother, we want them back. No-one gets hurt." He growled.

Maxwell pushed his face into Connor's, eyes even more narrow than before. "You can't do anything to me in here, without your little guns and retarded prayers. You and your stupid brother of yours must be itching to shoot me huh?" His mouth moved to Connor's ear as he lowered his voice to a growl, "I killed seven innocent women on the outside… Strangled them with my bare hands… But you can't pull your saint bullshit off in here can you leprechaun? "

Connor began to see red. He just had to do something to this man before his head exploded. He let his head move back a little as he prepared to head-butt the fucker.

He never got the chance.

Murphy was on top of the large man within seconds of his remark. The Irishman slammed his fists down into Maxwell's face over and over until he was soaked in blood. "Thought you were safe did ya? Think I'd ignore the fact ya killed all those women? Fucking monster, I'll kill ya!" He roared as he wrapped his hands tightly around the man's neck. Maxwell started turning red, then purple. Connor tried to remove Murphy from the man but the younger brother was too strong and determined. "I'm gonna watch ya turn blue and watch your life slip away, like ya did ta those girls!" Murphy spat.

The guys at the table were frozen in horror, not even daring to move or help Maxwell out as his body became motionless under Murphy's weight.

The man was dead. Murphy had killed him within minutes.

"Fuck Murph," Connor dropped to his knees besides his shaking brother, wrapping an arm around him and pulling his face into his shoulder, "What have ya done?"

Everything happened so fast after that. The prison guards flooded in, prizing Connor's brother from his arms. He had begged them not to take him away, but his anguished pleas made no difference. He had no idea where they had taken him. He sat at the table that was previously occupied by Maxwell's gang. Maxwell was now being zipped in a body bag; his face was purple, saturated in blood, his eyes and mouth wide open in a terrified expression. Connor had to look away, as the fact that his brother had done this hit him hard in the stomach again. It wasn't like Murphy to flip like that; he was the baby of the two; the sensitive one, the one with the heart of gold. Connor should have known this was going to happen...

He had watched his Murphy slowly change in the last two months that they had been locked up. He put it down to the very fact they were imprisoned and nothing more. Now, he felt that prison life had affected his brother far deeper than he first thought.

His train of thought was interrupted as he realised he heard someone clear their throat.

"You should get back to your cell MacManus." The guard known as Rupert said. Connor shook his head sadly,

"I can't go back to that cell without me brother; I need to know what's going on with him."

Rupert gave Connor a sympathetic look. He was one of only a few guards who previously admired the saint's work and was fond of the Irish duo. "He's most probably being detained in isolation." He told Connor, "Look, this piece of shit in this body bag deserved everything he got, but Murphy is gonna be in serious hot water over this." He finished.

Connor felt like he had deflated. His brother, his closest and greatest friend in the world was going to be kept away from him for lord knows how long. Their chances of escape were more than likely gone in a puff of smoke now. He felt a small tug of relief when he heard a familiar voice.

"What the fuck went down in here?!" Romeo gasped as he entered the recreation area. Connor discarded any worries of looking ridiculous as he jumped up and hugged the Mexican tightly. Romeo wriggled awkwardly from the Irishman's grip, his eyes flicked around the room.

"What's got into you? And where's Murphy?"

**_Murphy was gone._**

Connor felt despair once again. "Rome, he murdered Maxwell. He _strangled_ him with his bare hands, not before smashing his face to a pulp," Connor swallowed down the hard lump in his throat, his voice cracked and upset, "I've never seen him like that, _ever_."

Romeo opened his mouth to speak, when the rustling and twitching of the body bag caught the three men's attention. A heavy cloud of eeriness shadowed the room. The man who was most definitely dead half an hour ago was now trying to escape from his bag.

"What the fuck?!" Connor mouthed as Rupert slowly approached the body. He fumbled with the zip before pulling it all the way down. Maxwell's pale hand rose from the bag, his fingers flexing, trying to grab hold of thin air. The low, droning growls began to panic Connor. This wasn't normal, not normal at all. Romeo had joined Rupert's side now, looking at Maxwell's face with disgust.

"His eyes man, they're cloudy and he has no pupils… That's some freaky shit!" He exclaimed. His eyes were wide and almost popping out with surprise.

Connor had a feeling that something major was happening, like people coming back from the dead major. He knew for a fact, as did Rupert, that Maxwell had been dead; and now he was groaning and twitching about with milky white eyes. Connor jumped up and quickly zipped the bag back up; narrowly avoiding his hand being bitten by Maxwell's chomping teeth.

"We need to get the fuck out of here, and I need to get Murph!" Connor yelled.

Rupert nodded; he didn't consider the rules of where prisoners were and were not allowed to go under the circumstances they were in.

"Connor, Romeo, come with me. I'll inform the others and we'll check on Murphy."

**May 15****th**** 2010 – Georgia**

Daryl pushed his front door open with a large sigh of relief._ Another hard day's work under the Georgia sun over with and time for a cold beer,_ he thought to himself. He shrugged his jacket off his tense shoulders and kicked off his work boots, his toes instantly feeling more relaxed and free. He made his way to the kitchen, switching on the radio to a song he liked by the Black Keys. He smiled to himself as he hummed along, reaching into the fridge to grab the crate of beer. He walked to the living area, opened one of the ice cool bottles and took a large swig, "That's the stuff," he groaned to himself as he sank into his lounger chair, his muscles aching from working on the farm all day.

Daryl enjoyed the simple things in life, mainly because all he'd ever had was simple stuff. He wasn't rich, he didn't own a fancy car or house. He was happy with his little house and his oh-so redneck truck. He worked most hours of the day, he enjoyed a drink at his local bar, but most of all, he enjoyed peace and quiet. That was Daryl Dixon; the abused son of alcoholics that the locals never imagined would hold down a good job and surprisingly hadn't died from a drug overdose or something by now. _Just shows how much shit people know_ he smirked to himself.

He was on his second beer and debating what to make for dinner, when the song on the radio switched to an urgent news broadcast.

_An update just in on the virus 'AX.20'. Reports show that the virus is spreading fast throughout America, along with reports of the virus being discovered in other parts of the world. These countries include the United Kingdom, Australia, Germany and China with many more suspected. People suffering from the virus have allegedly suffered from heart and other organ failure, before returning to a state of living where they are severely brain damaged. Some members of the public have even witnessed the 'infected' trying to attack and bite those who are not suffering from the virus. Military and medical personnel have informed the public to stay in their homes and only travel if absolutely necessary. As some hospitals are being closed to the public, medical stations will be opening in local schools and sports stadiums around the country. We will have more on the Virus as soon as we receive more updates from the CDC. Everybody, stay calm and stay safe._

Then the broadcast finished, and the air was dead.

Daryl had a very bad feeling about all of this. At first, like most Americans, he shrugged the news of a virus off. _Just another way to scare the stupid people_ he had told himself. He thought after several days, the virus would ware off, like most other cases. It had been a month now and if anything it was only getting worse.

Georgia wasn't affected that much, it seemed the larger cities and towns were getting hit the worst.

However, Daryl had to admit that he was more than a little worried after the woman with the panicked and obviously strained voice had come on the air and gave everyone the latest update. Then it was even stranger that the air had just gone dead.

Daryl sat in silence for ten minutes or so as he tried to make sense of everything. He was soon onto his sixth bottle of beer.

**Boston**

The sight that awaited Connor in cell block G was nothing less than a horrific mess. He gripped onto Romeo's shoulder, trying to keep his friend close and safe. Terrified prisoners tried their hardest to fight off the dead like people, who snapped and snarled towards them. These monsters used to be other prisoners, all baring similar bite wounds around their necks and arms. Connor yelped as he witnessed one of the dead people sank their teeth into an older man he knew as Albert, an illegal car dealer who worked in the prison kitchens regularly, right in front of him. Connor and the older man watched in sheer shock as the thing that Connor could only describe as a dead man walking tore the flesh away from the man's shoulder; strings of muscle and spurting blood erupted in front of them.

"Albert! Oh Jesus!" Connor screamed. Romeo shoved the dead man hard onto its back, releasing Albert from its grip as he slumped down against the hard, cold wall. Connor swooped down to press his hand against the wound, in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding.

"What can I do? Tell me!" he panicked as he looked into the older man's fading eyes.

"Leave… me son. I'm, I'm as good… as dead." He stammered, trying to stop his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. He was losing consciousness quickly.

"I can't fucking leave ya! Come on, get up!" he cried out. The older man shook his head weakly, causing an even heavier flow of blood to run down his torso and Connor's hand.

"I'm gonna… turn, into one of them. That's how it's happening, bites. The radio report was right." He whispered.

Connor fought back the tears as Albert gasped his last laboured breath. Then the man was dead; eyes wide open but so very empty. He took a second to whisper a small prayer for the man, then looked up to realise Romeo and Rupert were trying to fight off the flesh hungry demons as he just sat there. He jumped to his feet, connecting his fist to the pale face of the dead man Romeo was fighting. It flew backwards, landing against a table that had been smashed to make weapons during the drama. The men turned to continue looking for Murphy when a loud crunch made them look back towards the dead man. One of the snapped legs still attached to the upturned table had impaled the corpse through the head, bringing its hungry rampage to an end.

Connor faced his friend and the guard, "So, we need to damage the fucker's heads?" he growled.

"That's right brother, smash the bastards brains out!"

Connor whirled around to come face to face with his dear brother, his wicked, charming smile etched onto his pale face. Connor cried with joy as he embraced his twin, thanking the Lord that he was alive. The reunion was short lived as the remaining corpses closed in on them. Murphy hopped on the spot, brimming with adrenaline.

"Watch me Con, watch me take these creeps out!" he yelled as he pulled a large shard of mirrored glass from his prison suit pocket and flew towards one of the corpses. He shoved the glass straight through its eye; a satisfying "yes!" escaped him as the lifeless body hit the ground.

"Ya wanna start helping out?" He yelled to the three dumbfounded men before him.


	2. Chapter 2 - Escape

**May 13th - Boston**

The blur of anger and fear was over in several minutes. The four men in the prison had taken out the last three of the walking dead in the cell block. _Smash their brains out_ Murphy had told them. The image of himself driving a metal bar through the head of another inmate played over and over in Connor's mind. This was the first time he had killed someone so barbarically, and he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.

Murphy seemed rather calm to Connor, _too calm. _He saw how Romeo eyed him from across the room; he looked to be thinking the same thing. The Mexican shifted his weight from one leg to the other, before speaking up.

"How did you know Murphy, to get them in the brain?"

Murphy snorted and approached one of the lifeless corpses now strewn across the prison floor; he kicked the deceased sharp in the ribs.

"Don't know if you've noticed Rome, but these fuckers aint human." He started, "I saw a man die and come back; started growling and snapping his jaws at me, trying ta get a bite outa me."

Connor's face dropped, _his brother had been attacked?! _

"My god Murph, what happened?" Connor whispered, noticing the saddened look growing on the younger twin's face.

"They threw me in isolation; one of those crooked guards who worked for Maxwell locked himself in with me. Just me, him and his baton; he wanted to teach me a lesson he said."

It was only then that Connor noticed the bruises on Murphy's face; it had been all go since he found his brother again, and now he could see them spoiling his beautiful, pale face.

"Where the fuck is he Murph? I'm gonna kill him!" Connor roared, anger burning in his expression.

"No need for that dear brother," Murphy interrupted, "I finished him off meself, broke the mirror and cut his throat; bled the bastard dry."

The silence was cold, Connor could see Romeo fidgeting in the corner of his eye, and Rupert was just still with shock.

"Then he came back?" Connor asked.

"Aye "

Connor summoned the other men to stand beside him; he looked every one of them in the eyes, holding the gaze with his brother for a moment longer.

"We need to get out of here, **_now_**_._"

**May 16th - Georgia **

The pair burst out of Daryl's front door and spilled onto the street, expecting more of those dead people to be waiting for them. Lorna's arm was outstretched; gripping onto the Revolver like it was her lifeline. The street was empty, the two infected people that were there a moment before were now heading down the road in the distance.

"Come on." He spoke softly, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. He directed her to his truck, deciding to be a gentleman and opening the passenger door for her. She smiled weakly and climbed in, taking the work bag from him and sitting it on her knee. A second later he was sat behind the wheel, starting the truck up.

"So where we headed?" she asked him.

"No idea doll." He replied. _Doll_, he had always called her when he spoke to her in the street or whenever he had been served by her in the bar she worked in. It was harmless enough; a little flirting here and there never hurt anyone but now the name had sort of stuck.

She pulled a hair elastic from her wrist and tied her brunette hair into a bun on the top of her head. He didn't need to pay too much attention to the road as he drove; the place was a fucking ghost town. He watched her as she fought back tears, her nose wrinkling up with the effort. He wasn't good with crying people; he never knew what to say. He drove for several more minutes until he couldn't take the muffled cries into her hand anymore.

"Come on now girl, don't cry. You're not a kid no more." He didn't mean to sound so harsh.

"I didn't know there was a cut off age for having emotions." She murmured.

_Shit, had he upset her?_

He tried to change conversation with the teary girl,

"So how old are you anyway? Strange that we live on the same road and I've always drank in your uncle's bar, yet I know nothing about yer."

She snorted with amusement, "How old do I look?"

Daryl hated that question; usually women were offended if you guessed their age wrong.

"Erm, twenty-two?" he asked cautiously.

"Nearly. I'm twenty-one." She smiled softly.

She looked at Daryl in silence for a minute.

"Thirty-four?" she simply said.

Daryl grinned at the compliment, "I wish doll. The big four-zero."

"Wow," she began, "You don't look forty, honestly."

They drove in silence after that, Lorna had stopped her tears and Daryl was hopelessly trying to find some music on the radio. All the stations were dead.

They drove past the local shopping mall, the sight there was awful. Bodies scattered the parking lot, those dead _things_ were everywhere, wandering around the area clueless. A couple of them looked as though they were e_ating_ the dead on the ground.

"Do you think this is the end of the world?" Lorna breathed shakily.

"I don't know, I don't think I've let it sink in yet." He replied truthfully. He hoped that any minute now, he would wake up in his comfy bed, grab himself some breakfast and get on with his day. _If only. _The truth was, he was in the middle of some sort of apocalypse, running away from flesh eating zombies.

"How about the city?" Lorna asked, "If there's gonna be a safe zone or military, it will be in Atlanta city."

Daryl rubbed the stubble on his chin, thinking the idea through.

"It's a good plan, but the city's big. If these dead fucks are walking around everywhere, the city will be packed with them. "

Lorna sighed and carried on thinking of places to go.

"The quarry!" Daryl gasped, "I used to go there as a kid. There's plenty of woodland for hunting, obviously tonnes of water and fish. We could hold up there, it's pretty isolated. We just need some tents and supplies. There's a hunting store down this way."

This seemed like the perfect idea for Daryl, like it was fate. He was a great hunter and tracker and he loved the outdoors more than anything; that's why he had worked so hard to land the job on the farm.

"Ok, I'm trusting you with this one Dixon. Let's get to this store and to the quarry."

**May 14th (am) - Boston**

The twins burst into their small apartment, the door almost flying off its hinges. Romeo entered after them, he was yelling and drenched in Rupert's blood; they had lost him in the crazy streets of Boston.

"Come on guys! We need to get the fuck out of Boston, why are we here?!" Romeo hissed.

The older twin headed straight for his old bed, pulling a box from underneath.

"I told you Eunice was planning on getting us out. She had our belongings sent here, the stuff the cops took when we were busted, ready for us getting out." Connor opened the box and cried out in joy, "Eunice you beauty! Everything's here, it's all fucking here!"

Murphy joined his brother's side; a small laugh of relief escaped his mouth as he wrapped his fingers around his beloved Berettas. The pair turned to hand Romeo his guns, the man didn't care at all. He was silent, his face full of despair and fear.

"They got him, and I couldn't do a fucking thing. I had to put him down like some sick animal." He whispered, referring to Rupert.

"You did the right thing by him." Murphy approached the Mexican, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. The blood rubbed onto his prison suit, it smelt so stale and putrid already.

_Romeo was dragging behind, trying to help the prison guard out. The twins were in front, taking down as many of the biters, they had decided to call them, with their metal bars so the pair behind could follow. Rupert tripped on a body, hitting the pavement hard, his face smashing against the ground._

_"Romeo!" he yelled through a mouth full of blood and broken teeth._

_Romeo turned and headed for the man, his crow bar he had found in his hand. It was too late._

_The biters were all over him within seconds. The man screamed in agony as they bit into his neck and stomach, ripping him open and spilling his insides all over the floor. Romeo cracked the crowbar into the two biter's heads, one after the other, bludgeoning their skulls to bloody messes. He vomited at the sight of Rupert, his insides exposed everywhere, yet the man was still alive, gasping and choking on his own blood. _

_"Aw fuck Rupert, what do I do?" Romeo cried out._

_"Kill me," the man whispered, "End it." _

_Romeo chocked back the sobs in his throat, lifted his crowbar and simply mouthed "I'm sorry" before bringing the blunt object down onto the man's head. The man's blood gave one last almighty splatter, as it covered Romeo's front. He felt the hands of his friends on his shoulders, followed by Connor's sorrow filled voice, "Let's go Rome."_

Romeo nodded at Murphy, trying to erase the memory from his mind. He took his guns from Connor and snarled, "Those fuckers out there don't stand a chance against us, hey guys?!"

Murphy grinned, patting the man on the back, "Too fucking right Rome!"


	3. Chapter 3 - Brunswick bound

**A/N - Thank you to those who have taken time to review Saints&Arrows, it means a great deal to me to know what the readers think!**

**I have gone back on my word a little with the 'how I write what the twins say', I have just decided to say the lines in my head as I write them, and let what sounds/feels comfortable be put into my writing. So ta for to, ya for you etc...**

**Enjoy!**

**Lx**

**Georgia**

"Get down!" Daryl hissed at the girl, noticing one of the walking dead behind the counter in the store. Lorna hit the floor silently and carried on heading towards the tents, only now she was crawling there. Daryl rolled his eyes, _stay still doll _he told her in his head. He got as low to the ground as he can before following her lead.

"I've got them," she whispered so quietly that Daryl only understood when he saw the tents folded up in her arms. He flashed her a smile, giving her view of his straight, white teeth.

"I'm impressed." He spoke loudly as he stood up straight. He wanted the dead to hear him, and his plan worked. The foul looking monster reared its ugly head, taking a step towards Daryl. He took aim with his Horton and brought the walking dead down with a fast bolt to its head.

Lorna rose too and grabbed some supplies she thought would be useful whilst the hunter retrieved his arrow from the corpse's skull, the arrow made a disgusting squelching sound as Daryl pulled it out.

They nodded to one another and made their way back to the truck.

"You want me to drive?" Lorna asked with concern in her voice, she had noticed how tired and unwell the man looked, "No offence, but you look like shit."

Daryl snorted, his eyebrows raising, "Gee thanks doll," he started, "Suppose you're right, my heads up my ass, fucking hangover on the worst day possible." They both chuckled as they switched sides in the truck.

Lorna started the vehicle up, checking the rear mirror out of instinct, only to be welcomed back by an empty dust road. _Where was everyone? There had to be more living people than just her and Daryl. _

"So, you had a drink last night? I didn't see you in the bar. You found yourself a better spot?" she asked, a small mischievous smile gracing her lips.

"Was having a quick one after work at home, heard this fucking weird radio broadcast, needed several more bottles after that." He groaned as his headache cried out at him.

"Such a shame I couldn't be there, you're very entertaining when you're drunk." She teased.

"Hey! Nothing wrong with winding down after a hard day on the farm." He grinned.

"He calls it winding down, I call it falling asleep on the bar." She mused.

Daryl blushed, obviously still embarrassed about stretching out on the top of the bar and dropping to sleep.

"Well that was a one-off." He smirked.

The sudden pop of a tyre brought the pair out of their relaxed state, the truck was skidding across the road and Daryl watched on as Lorna tried to control the vehicle. It all played out in slow motion; the truck rolling into the grass, the girl's panic stricken screams, and then the silence.

_The silence_; she had stopped crying out. She sat in the upturned truck, her body lifeless, blood trickling from her head.

_Please don't let her be dead…_

Daryl shuffled in his seat, trying to grab the girl's wrist. He sighed in relief as he felt the faint throbbing of her pulse.

"Lorna! Come on girl, wake up." He shook her gently, but she didn't respond.

"Shit!" He hissed.

He squirmed out of his seat and managed to drag himself out of the passenger side. The pain in his leg was almost unbearable, but getting the girl to safety was his main priority. He prized her door open; her head rolled a little as it had been against the door. He lifted her out, thinking twice and deciding to grab his work bag which now also included the supplies from the store.

"Don't worry doll, I'm not gonna let you die."

It was then that he heard an engine behind him; another vehicle was pulling up several metres back. Daryl growled and made a mental note that his revolver was in Lorna's back jean pocket if he should need it. He swallowed his pride and realised that he really needed these stranger's help, or the helpless girl in his arms might not make it.

A pale man with spiked blonde hair exited the blue people carrier first. He was quickly followed by a paler man with dark, messy hair. The last person to climb out was a Hispanic man with long dark hair, pushed back with a bandanna.

"Yer need some help over there?" The blonde man spoke with a heavy irish accent.

Daryl nodded, realising he needed to speak up, "Yeh, our trucked rolled, I can't wake her up." He yelled over.

The blonde Irishman began to approach the hunter at a quickened pace. The darker haired man next to the blonde followed him. Daryl noticed the men were wearing the same clothes; dark wash jeans and black tee-shirts, which was a little weird. Then he noticed the leg holsters containing the Berettas.

"Is she bleeding?" The blonde asked, trying to get a look at the girl as he drew closer.

"Yeh, from her head I think." Daryl replied his eye still laid on the weapons attached to them.

"You got any rags, bandages, spare clothing?" the darker haired man asked.

"Yeh, they're in here." Daryl laid Lorna down gently on the grass, turning to his work bag as he started looking for the clean shirt he knew was in there, _somewhere._

He stopped as he noticed the first aid kits in his bag. Lorna must have grabbed them back at the hunting store.

He handed the blonde man the first aid kit, along with his spare shirt. The man took them and crouched down besides the unconscious girl.

"What's her name?" he asked Daryl.

"Lorna" he replied, the panic in his voice was very noticeable now.

"Hello, Lorna? Can you hear me darling?" He spoke to the girl as he checked out the graze to her forehead. He decided to clean the cut with some alcohol wipes and applied a gauze pad with some bandage tape.

"The cut isn't too deep, just superficial. It won't need stitches. I think she's just knocked out from the impact of the crash." He told Daryl.

Connor looked back down to the girl and tried waking her with some light shaking to her shoulders.

"Come on Lorna, can you open your eyes for me?"

Lorna's eyelids flickered open as she slowly regained her sight. She was dazed and confused, looking up into a stranger's face; _and what_ _a beautiful face it was. _She didn't know this man and should have been afraid; but she couldn't help but feel safe when she looked into his soft blue eyes. The man gave her a handsome smile then got to his feet.

"She's awake." He announced.

Daryl's was the next face to come into her view; he looked upset, but also relieved.

"Hey you," he smirked, "gave me quit a scare you know."

"Hey," she croaked, her head was searing with pain as she spoke, "what happened?"

"Tyre blew on the truck, sent us rolling. Wasn't your fault." He assured her, caressing her chin with his thumb. He had done that subconsciously, and then snapped his hand back feeling a little embarrassed afterwards.

Lorna's first reaction was to sit up, she felt a little disoriented and the pain in her head still throbbed. She had a strong feeling she was probably concussed, _great that's all I need, _her own annoyed voice spat in her mind. She took a look at the three new people surrounding her.

"Who are these people Daryl?" she asked her friend, quite aware that they could hear her; she tried not to sound too rude.

The blonde man from a moment earlier spoke first, "Me name's Connor. The dark-haired little shit there's me brother, Murphy," the man stood not too far away from Connor nodded at Lorna, giving her a friendly wink and a small smile, "and this is our boy Romeo, he's a close friend of my brother and me." The long-haired man who hadn't spoken a word to her yet stepped away from their car and made his way over to the rest of them.

"Nice to meet ya miss." He too gave Lorna a small, polite smile.

Lorna acknowledged each introduction with a smile and a nod, before trying to stand up. That turned out to be a bad move, as she staggered on her weak legs, falling into Connor's chest.

"Whoa steady on lass, gotta take it nice and slow after that nasty bump." He spoke with his thick accent. Lorna steadied herself using the Irishman's arms.

"You're a long way from home aren't you?" She eyed the two brothers.

"We moved over to Boston from Ireland just over ten years ago looking for work," Connor caught his brother's gaze and smirked, "Ya can take the man out of Ireland, but you can't take the Irish out of him." Both Murphy and Lorna snorted at the blonde.

Daryl looked skeptic of three strangers; sure they had helped him and his friend out, but he knew nothing about them. They could be cold-blooded murderers for all he knew. He cleared his throat, attracting their attention.

"Are you heading anywhere in particular?" he asked.

"Aye, we met a man who said to head for Brunswick. He heard the Navy were hauling ships of survivors out of here. Thought we'd try our luck, you never know right? You're welcome ta join us." Murphy explained, his face looked hopeful of a way out of this mess.

"So, are we close, to this Brunswick?" Connor added, scratching his nose.

"It's about a couple of hours drive from here, so yeah, pretty close." Daryl said.

Lorna thought for a minute. She knew Daryl made a great survivalist with his hunting skills and love for the land, but she couldn't shake the urge of wanting to join the men in the hope to find a way out of their situation.

"Daryl, can I have a word?" she murmured.

Daryl stepped to one side with Lorna a questioning look written on his face.

"I think we should go with them." She blurted out, in the lowest voice she could manage.

Daryl stood in thought for a moment before nodding.

"I agree, we should look for Military or someone in authority. Just we don't know these people Lorna. I'm grateful for the Irishman patching you up, but we don't know these people." He whispered.

"Everything's different now Daryl. We need to trust them, we have no other choice, _we have no other place to go._" She finished her sentence in a low hiss.

"You're right. Fuck it, let's go with them. If they try anything though, we leave straight away; I've got you to look out for now." He smiled softly. "You know, you really did scare me back there. I thought I was gonna lose ya," he tried to cover his tracks with, "yer daft idiot."

The pair finally stepped back up to the three men, who were all still stood in silence.

"We'd be happy to join you, thank you." Lorna smiled graciously.

The wide smile on Connor's face was hard to miss as he clapped a hand on Lorna's shoulder, "Well come on then, we got ourselves a ship ta board!"

The drive to Brunswick didn't take long. Daryl's truck was well and truly too damaged to drive, so with no other choice, the pair piled into the people carrier with the others, not before syphoning the remaining fuel from the truck's tank. Lorna and Daryl sat in the middle of the vehicle, the twins at the front with Murphy driving, and Romeo at the back. The Irishmen were rather talkative, which Lorna welcomed; she hated awkward silences, so she listened to their tales of back in Boston a look of genuine interest on her face.

The coastline was becoming visible, and everyone craned their necks, in hope of spotting big ships, boats, _even just another person._

"Let's get out and take a closer look on the beach." Romeo spoke.

Their fears were confirmed as they walked across the sand; there was nothing there for them. The sea was uninhabited; the beach was a ghost town too.

"It was worth a try." Connor murmured, his brother looked pissed off.

"Fuck it! Now what?" Murphy yelled, kicking at the damp sand.

The group just looked in silence at each other for a moment, debating in their thoughts on what the new plan was.

A faint groaning across the beach broke their train of thought; Lorna turned her head, noticing the lump on the sand in the distance.

"Is that one of those biters?" Romeo asked Connor.

Murphy whipped out his gun from its holster on his leg in a long fluid motion,

"I'll take care of it." He growled.

He began to stride across the beach, his arm stretched out, gun in hand. Lorna noticed how confident and at home he looked with the weapon in his hand; she suspected he was carrying that thing around way before the dead started walking.

Murphy needed to release some steam, after their discovery of _fuck all _in this god forsaken place. He had offered to check out the dead bastard and he planned on having fun putting a bullet in its brain. He took aim as he closed in on the pile laid on the floor. His eyes widened as it struck him; the 'biter' was in fact a woman, reaching her hand up to him. The proof she was living came when she feebly whispered. "Help me," before blacking out.

**Please review! **


	4. Chapter 4 - Journey back

**Please Review!**

His brother saw Murphy signalling them to come over. The urgency in the waving made the group jog over at a pace.

"What's the problem?" Daryl asked the dark-haired twin.

It was then, with both Daryl and Murphy stood before her, that Lorna realised that the men looked very familiar; the same deep-set eyes, strong jaw lines and even similar beauty spots in the corner of their mouths. It was uncanny.

"She's not one of them; she just spoke ta me, asked for help then blacked out." Murphy replied, his eyebrow raising as he noticed Lorna looking from him to Daryl and back, a dumbfounded expression on her face.

Daryl and Lorna crouched by the woman; she looked in her mid-thirties, her long brunette hair was wavy and matted with sand and dirt. Then Lorna noticed the bruises around her left eye socket and cheek; she felt a gnawing in the pit of her stomach as she came to the conclusion that someone must have hit the woman pretty hard to leave that sort of mark.

"Looks like someone attacked her; no bites, but a big ass bruise on her face. Whoever did this was living, was no biter that's for sure." Daryl explained to the others as he examined the woman's face.

"Well we can't leave her here, someone help me get her to the car." Lorna sighed. She wasn't prepared to leave this older woman, unconscious on a soggy beach, for the biters.

Murphy tucked his arms around the woman, bringing her into his chest, her legs hanging over one of his arms, her head rolling onto his shoulder. He must have been pretty strong, as her dead weight on him didn't seem to affect him at all.

"I got her, come on." He growled, leading the way back to the car.

They laid the woman in the back of the car, leaving space for Lorna to sit with her; she was smaller than Romeo, so his new place was next to Daryl. The two of them spoke in low mutters, planning on what to do once they got to the quarry, Daryl's first plan. Connor had volunteered to drive, leaving Murphy in the passenger seat, peeking over his shoulder every few minutes to check on the unconscious passenger.

Lorna was just making a mental note to help the woman get cleaned up when they got to the quarry's lake Daryl had spoken of, when the woman stifled a moan. Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyelids squeezing tight. She gasped, her head shaking. Her body became tense, her nails digging into the seat of the car as she pushed herself up.

Murphy looked helpless as he could only watch Lorna try to calm the woman.

"Shh shh, it's ok, you're safe." The younger girl assured the upset woman.

"What's going on? Where am I?" she didn't pause between each question.

"We found you unconscious, on a beach in Brunswick. You're safe now." Lorna spoke softly.

The woman relaxed back into the seat, her breathing slowed its pace.

"You have a name?" Daryl asked her.

The woman's eyes snapped to Daryl, and then she took in every person sat in the car, watching them suspiciously.

"Kerry, I'm Kerry, and thank you for not leaving me there to die." She sighed, "If those monsters had shown up, I would have died for sure."

Lorna swallowed a hard lump in her throat. She felt a pang of sadness as she looked at the swollen bruise on the woman's face. Even though Kerry was probably old enough to be her mother, Lorna silently promised the woman that she was going to look after the woman and make sure no-one laid a hand on her again.

"Nice of you to wake up sleeping beauty," Murphy smiled sweetly at the woman, it was obvious that he was smitten with the woman's pretty face, bruise or no bruise. Kerry blushed, her eyes still wary of the men in the car.

"I'm Murphy," the Irishman continued, "this is me brother Connor, our Mexican Romeo and these two are our new friends, Daryl and Lorna." Lorna felt warmness in her heart at being called these people's friend.

Daryl, Romeo and Connor all greeted the woman in turn. Lorna explained their plan to set camp up at the quarry in Georgia whilst they planned what to do next, and Kerry listened carefully, nodding to show she was paying attention.

"I honestly don't mind where we go, I just don't want to end up on my own, again." She replied honestly.

The journey didn't take long, but a mixture of the concussion and exhaustion sent Lorna to sleep in the back of the car. She awoke when the soothing motion of the moving car came to a halt, the Irishman behind the wheel turning to the others,

"Tank's empty, we need to scavenge some fuel."

Lorna stretched and scratched her head; she can't have been asleep long. She checked their surroundings, several cars were scattered across the road, all of them uninhabited, the passengers either dead or long gone looking for refuge.

"I'll go, won't take me long. There should be enough fuel in those cars to get us to the quarry; it's about forty-five minutes from here." Daryl announced, reaching for the car door.

"I'll come with ya, wanna stretch me legs and have a smoke." Murphy joined in, opening his door. He would normally smoke in the car, but he wasn't sure if the women would appreciate that.

The almost identical men stepped out of the vehicle, taking a plastic container form the trunk to fill with petrol. They set off towards the cars a few yards away; Murphy pulled a cig out of the box, placing it between his lips. He motioned the carton towards Daryl, who shook his head.

"You're alright, you save them. I've got some back in the car." Daryl gave the man a polite nod.

"Nah its fine. I'll just pinch one off ya later." Murphy smirked.

"Go on then," the hunter said, taking one and copying Murphy's actions, "Thanks."

They lit their cigarettes with Murphy's lighter, and smoked them a little too quickly. The stress of the day was being taken out on the little sticks of pleasure. The moment lasted a minute or so, before both cigs were stubbed and thrown to the floor. The pair moved on towards the cars, it didn't take long to fill the container, before Murphy came across a dirty black van with a symbol of some sort on the side. Daryl watched him break open the back door and climb in. He returned a moment later, holding an acoustic guitar.

"Must have belonged to a band," Murphy grinned, looking back at the van as he made his way to Daryl, "I know someone who will fucking love this."

Daryl didn't have time to ask questions, as his eyes laid on the dragging corpse that was about to grab Murphy's shoulder.

"Behind you!" Daryl yelled, lifting his crossbow to take aim.

Murphy must have spotted the wave of panic that washed over the hunter's face, because at that moment, the dark-haired man swooped down to whip the large blade from his boot. He brought the knife up to the growling jaw of the walking dead, and with an almighty grunt he thrust the weapon into its chin, the blade piercing up into its brain. A disgusting combination of blood and black fluid coursed out of the fresh wound on the dead. He pushed the body away, letting it land on the ground with a pathetic thud.

Murphy stood for a moment, trying to steady his breathing, the shock of the biter creeping up on him evident in his widened blue eyes.

"You alright?" Daryl rushed to check his shoulder.

"M' fine." He replied bluntly, dismissing Daryl's concern, "Come on let's go."

They made their way back to the people carrier, Murphy offered to fill the tank so he could sneak the guitar into the trunk. The unsuspecting guitarist sat inside the vehicle, no idea that his brother had a gift for him in the back, a gift that nearly cost the dark-haired twin's life.

"Let's move on, you ok to keep driving if I give you directions, or shall I take the wheel?" Daryl asked Connor.

Connor thanked Daryl and they swapped seats, Connor now sitting in front of Lorna. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and smiled at the women, "You both ok ladies?" he purred with that gorgeous Irish accent. He looked at Kerry, who smiled back at him, and then he switched his eyes to Lorna where he kept his gaze on her a little longer. Lorna gave him the best smile she could muster; she felt like she'd walked straight out of a cheesy love film as she drowned in his ocean blue eyes. After a long moment of gazing at him, she could have sworn he blushed. He grinned and turned his head back front.

Lorna remained silent for the rest of the journey, a certain Irishman occupying her mind.

The quarry was just as secluded and serene as Daryl has described. The water was surrounded by large mountain like hills; the area they would set up camp was hidden by trees. Everybody spilled out of the people carrier; Lorna found it comical as she watched the twins stretch in unison.

"Aye, this is a good place to set up; hat's off ta ya Daryl." Connor clapped a hand on the hunter's back, and wasted no time in lighting a cigarette; again, Murphy mirrored his brother's actions. Lorna tugged on Daryl's arm to catch his attention.

"We have three tents." She informed him.

Connor, Murphy and Romeo came to stand with the pair, Kerry was leaning against the car a metre away.

Daryl went to grab the tents from the car, giving the older woman a reassuring smile as he reached her, and then headed back to the group.

"Ok, we have three two-man tents, so we need to decide who's sleeping in which tent, and all let's be adults about it." Daryl gave his best leadership voice.

Connor immediately claimed one for him and his brother, explaining that they had never spent a night apart. They had shared a room as children, shared a room in their Boston apartment, and weren't prepared to be separated now.

Lorna offered to share a tent with Kerry. It would be cruel to make the hurt, lone woman share a sleeping space with a strange man. Kerry agreed that she would prefer to stay with the only other female.

That left Daryl and Romeo. Neither man objected and seemed fine with the arrangements; they were grown men after all. No-one was going to accuse them of being queer like some playground bullshit.

The men set up camp whilst Lorna cleaned the older woman up. She wouldn't ask about the bruises, she would wait until the woman was ready to open up.

Everyone was so exhausted by the time the camp was sorted, that they all turned in for the night. Daryl insisted he would stay up and keep watch, but Connor wouldn't have any of it. He could see just how worn out the hunter was, and ordered him to get some sleep.

Connor sat on the edge of the grassy hill, watching out over the surrounding hills and woodland. Compared to the hectic streets of Boston, the post apocalypse Georgian countryside was unnervingly silent for the Irishman. A rustling from behind him made him snap his head back, snatching the gun from his leg holster in record speed.

"Hey, it's only me." Lorna gasped.

"Sorry sweetheart, what's up?" he gestured for the young woman to sit down on the grass next to him.

She placed herself so close to him, she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I couldn't sleep." She answered, rolling a blade of grass between her fingers.

"I'm surprised any of us can, with all what's gone on." Connor sighed, looking into Lorna's eyes.

Lorna felt the blushing in her cheeks spread like fire, she dropped her eyes from the man's gaze. She couldn't sleep because of the things on her mind, Connor being the main thing she thought of. She had tossed and turned in her tent, every time her eyes closed, his stupidly handsome face was there; his radiant eyes fixed on her, almost begging her to kiss him.

"Yeh, it's a lot for everyone to take in." she murmured.

They sat in silence after that; Lorna tried to shake Connor from her mind, unaware that she occupied his thoughts, as they both watched out onto the horizon.


	5. Chapter 5 - Bonding time

**A/N - Once again, thank you so very much for the reviews! They really do give me the motivation to keep writing.**

**Enjoy! **

**Lx**

Lorna's eyes opened to find the ceiling of her tent. The last memory she had of being awake was sitting next to the blonde Irishman; she wondered for a minute if the man had carried her back to her tent, she smiled warmly to herself. She could hear people outside; Kerry wasn't in their tent so she guessed everyone else was up too. She rose out of her comfortable state and headed outside.

The first person she noticed was Murphy, sitting by a little makeshift campfire. His usually pale complexion was more grey today, his eyes sunken and dark. Lorna looked at the man with worry, he looked ill. She made her way over to the dark-haired man, who was now starting a fire with his lighter, burning up dried sticks and leaves.

"Morning ," Murphy smiled weakly.

"Morning Murphy, are you ok? You don't look so good." She asked him, noticing how dull his voice sounded today.

Murphy's eyebrows furrowed, "I'm fine." He mumbled.

"Are you sure, did you sleep ok?" Lorna pushed the question.

"I said I'm fine!" He snapped, throwing the lighter down as he ditched his attempt to get a good fire going and stormed away towards the trees.

Lorna watched the man disappear into the woods, deciding from the aggression in his voice, that she should leave him be. She spotted his brother over by their tent, in deep conversation with Daryl. The hunter looked focused, his hand gestures pointing from one space of thin air to another; the blonde nodded as he listened. Lorna decided to interrupt the men, to tell Connor about his brother's sudden disappearing act.

"You two look like you're plotting something." She smiled as she approached them.

Connor looked away from Daryl to fix his sight on the beautiful, young woman making her way towards them. Daryl noticed Connor's sudden lack of interest in their discussion and turned to see what he was gawping at.

"Jus' arranging a run sweetheart, gotta find us some food and what not." The Irishman's accent ran smoothly through Lorna's ears, sending a warm feeling down her body and into her stomach.

"Who's going on this run? I want to volunteer." She replied. After needing Daryl's rescue and crashing his truck, she wanted to earn her place and prove she could stand on her own two feet.

"No way, you're gonna stay here." Daryl butted in. The protectiveness in his head came out more like anger in his voice; he could have kicked himself for that.

"Daryl means we don't want ta put ya in danger." Connor added; his usual charming smile plastered on his face.

Lorna felt a little hurt by Daryl's words; _did he think she was useless, or a liability? _

"I just want to help, I want to be useful round here." She scowled as she looked at Daryl, his words still stinging in her memory, "Oh and Connor, I need a word please." She gestured for the Irishman to follow her.

Connor mouthed, "sure," as he stepped away from Daryl.

"I'm just a little worried about Murphy," she started.

"Murph? What's happened? Is he okay?" Connor's voice as strained as his eyes darted around the camp, looking for his twin.

"Hey now, he's fine. He just looks a bit off." Lorna reached up to steady the frantic man, her hand gripping his shoulder.

"Ya scared the life out of me lass! What do ya mean, _off._"

"I noticed he looked a little off colour, he looked tired. I asked him if he was ok, if he had slept alright and then he bit my head off. He went off into the woods."

Connor shook his head and took the hand that lay on his shoulder in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing her skin there gently. "He knows better than ta raise his voice t' a woman," Lorna blushed crimson, "I'll go talk ta him, but let me apologise on his behalf."

He let her hand drop to her side, keeping a steady gaze on her face, before heading off into the trees. Lorna fanned her other hand in front of her, a failed attempt to cool herself down from the heat Connor had unknowingly created. As she turned to go find Kerry, she swore she heard Connor humming a song as his figure vanished into the woods.

* * *

He trudged through the undergrowth, travelling deeper into the trees. He wouldn't have a clue where to find his brother in the mass of woodland if it wasn't for the cracking of wood in the distance. Sure enough, the sound was being made by Murphy; repeatedly striking a tree with his knife, chipping the bark away like he was peeling an apple.

"Steady on there Rambo." Connor smirked.

Murphy jumped, "Fuck Con, you startled me."

Connor moved closer to his brother, stretching his arm out to take the knife from him. "What if I'd been a biter, it wouldn't have stopped ta talk ta ya."

Murphy's face dropped into a scowl, his eyebrows furrowing together. "Well ya weren't were ya. Get off me back." He snatched the weapon away from his twin's grasp, tucking it into his boot.

Connor backed away; the pair stood in silence for a moment, the blonde's eyes on Murphy, the darker man's fixed on the floor. Connor was the first to give in, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. "You gonna tell me why ya out here, taking ya anger out on a tree?"

"Jus' wanted some time alone." Murphy watched his brother's cigarette with hungry eyes.

"Ya quit smoking now too?"

"I left me lighter at camp." The dark-haired man blushed as he thought of how childish he had been for throwing it like a toy out of his pram.

Connor threw his lighter at Murphy; he caught it and lit his smoke that he took from behind his ear.

"So, can I ask why ya spoke ta Lorna the way ya did?" Connor gave his brother a stern look.

Murphy sighed, hanging his head as the shame crept upon him. "I should never of snapped at her like tha'," he murmured, "I jus'… she was irritating me."

Connor took a long drag from the stick between his lips, holding the smoke in his lungs for a good while before blowing the plume out into the air. He observed Murphy's dull complexion and noticed how his usually bright blue eyes looked shallow and exhausted. "Ya know she's only concerned Murph. She's right ya do look a little off."

Murphy rolled his eyes, his lips pressing into a firm line before they opened to speak, "What is it with all of ya today? I get it, I look like shit, thank you!" he barked.

"Look here ya moody arse! I'm your brother and if wanna be worried about ya then I will ok, whether ya like it or not." Connor had marched up to Murphy as he spoke, his eyes wide with annoyance. However, once he was stood face to face with his other half, and he could see the fine details of his brother's angelic face, he couldn't hold on to his anger. Murphy's scowl dropped faded into a look of guilt; it seemed he couldn't stay mad at his twin either. He cupped the blonde's face in his hands, bringing their foreheads together, closing their eyes as they stood that way for a moment.

"I'm sorry Connor."

"Me too Murph."

"I should have told ya what happened yesterday, when me and Daryl went for gas." Murphy whispered his voice hoarse.

Connor broke the connection as he stepped back, looking at his brother in with confusion. "Something happened ya say?"

"A biter crept up on me," he saw the look of horror in his brother's face immediately, "but don't worry, I dealt with it." He finished, bending to pat his boot that contained his beloved blade.

Connor buried his face in his hands, the realization that he could have lost his Murphy sinking to the pit of his stomach. He ignored the tear threatening to run down his cheek. "Did it - _get ya?"_ he asked, trying to hide the pain in his voice, "Is that why ya feeling unwell?"

Murphy snorted, taking his brother's hand in his own with a tight squeeze. "Nah, it didn't have a chance ta. I just feel a bit sick, jus' a bug or something. Trust me brother."

Connor blew out a large breath of relief, _his brother wasn't going anywhere._ He placed his hand over his twin's mouth and kissed the back of it, "I love ya, ya big idiot. Just be more careful in future."

Murphy smiled, his cheeky, wicked grin had found its way back to his face, "I will dear brother, I love ya too."

* * *

Romeo loaded his gun as Daryl checked his crossbow over, tucking his knife in his belt for good measure.

"You ready man?" Romeo called over to the hunter. Romeo was leaning against the group's vehicle, ready to go on a supply run with the hunter.

"Yeh, I'm ready." Daryl replied with his southern drawl.

The pair climbed into the car as Kerry walked over to them, "You guys sure you'll manage ok? I can come if you need extra hands."

Daryl remembered how he had come across to Lorna earlier, so he softened his voice as he replied, "We've got it covered, but thanks for the offer."

The woman smiled as she stepped away from the vehicle, "Well be careful, the pair of you. See you later on."

The car drove down the dusty track as Kerry waved them off. She felt, as she had since she arrived, useless. Her face was sore and her memories were still clouded, she just wanted something to do to take her mind off things.

"Hey beautiful." An Irish voice called out.

It was Murphy, making his way towards the brunette. She tried her hardest not to blush at the compliment, telling herself that the man was just being friendly.

"You busy?" he asked her as he arrived in front of her.

"Do I look busy?" she joked, raising her hands to show she was just standing around.

"Ah. Good, you can help me cook up some dinner for when the boys get back."

Kerry felt relieved to have a task to carry out, as she followed the dark-haired hunk towards the campfire where Daryl had left a handful of gutted squirrels to be cooked. _Squirrels, of all the woodland creatures! _She mused to herself; but beggars couldn't be choosers.

* * *

Daryl and Romeo came across a small garage an hour or so down the road. It looked pretty deserted and most importantly, it looked untouched.

"I say we get in there real quick and empty the place into the car." Daryl spoke with a low growl.

The pair left the vehicle with firm grips on their weapons. Daryl scanned the area, his eyes focused and ears strained; this was his hunter mode, the state he became when listening and watching for the slightest movement around him.

"It's clear. Grab the bags." He spoke, breaking the deadly silence.

Romeo reached back in the vehicle for the duffle bags the twins had given them for supplies. "I'll start on one side and you the other. Then we will meet back near the front doors." Romeo instructed, trying not to sound too assertive towards the intimidating redneck.

Inside the store, the shelves were lined with rows upon rows of tins, dried pasta and other goodies. The downside was the rotten meat and dairy products stinking out the fridges.

"Jesus! There's enough here to feed us for months!" Daryl exclaimed, picking through some cans of corn and beans.

A low growling stopped Daryl dead in his tracks, he heard the familiar dragging of feet a second later.

"Romeo, biter behind the counter."

Romeo nodded and pulled his gun up. Daryl raised a hand to stop him, "Use something quiet."

Romeo looked around him, spotting and picking up a crowbar, similar to the one her had found then lost when running through the streets of Boston. He crept over to the counter, the blunt object in his hand ready above his head. The biter, that used to be a woman, was wearing a ripped check shirt, which revealed a scabbed, bloodied gash in its stomach. Its straggly, red hair covered most of its once pretty face. The dead, clouded eyes locked on Romeo, the biter began to surge forwards, snapping and snarling like a rabid dog.

"Fuck you." Romeo growled, almost whispering.

He brought the crowbar down in a swooping motion across his front, crunching the metal through the biter's shrivelled face. The bone and cartilage underneath squelched and cracked; the body dropped and became still on the floor.

"We can't manage it all a once though. Maybe we could lock up when we go, leave so much here and come back for it later?" Romeo suggested, showing no sign that he had just smashed something's face in.

"Good idea man."

The pair stocked the car as much as they could, before using the chains and bolts on the doors to close up shop. Romeo had the great idea of pulling the shutters down, and using a spray paint can he found in the little hardware department, he wrote on the metal surface in red:

'**_DO NOT ENTER, DEAD INSIDE…'_**

"That might keep people from snooping." Romeo grinned.

* * *

"This is gross." Kerry groaned, plopping the bloody squirrel meat into the camping pan the twins had scavenged on their travels.

"Food's food, my darling." Murphy laughed as he watched the woman's face turn a shade of green.

"I've always been the same, could never handle raw meat. I couldn't even be in the same house as it when I was pregn-" Kerry looked away, cursing herself for letting those words slip her mouth.

"Ya have a kid?" Murphy spoke softly.

"I miscarried. Was a long time ago." She replied coldly.

"I'm sorry ta hear tha'" the man said honestly, rubbing her arm.

His rough hand made just the right friction on her skin to make goosebumps spread up her arm. "Me too," she smiled sadly, "but I've had a long time to heal."

The meat spat in the hot pan, breaking the pair from their gaze on one another.

"Best keep an eye on this, don't want ta burn it." Murphy chuckled, the roar of a car engine could be heard driving up the road back to camp, "Sounds like the guys are back."

Apparently, beggars could be choosers after all.

"This is amazing you guys! Look at all this food!" Lorna exclaimed, running her hands over the tops of the cans.

"There's pasta and rice too!" Kerry lifted a large bag of easy-cook rice eyeing it impressively.

Daryl walked around the car and rested his back against it, "We grabbed some other stuff too; pans, lanterns, _sleeping bags._"

The rest of the group stared at the hunter and Romeo; their eyes wide as saucers, almost as round as their dropped mouths.

"Sleeping bags?! Where did ya find them in a garage?" Connor cried out in joy.

"We found those in a car on the way back." Romeo joined in, "Feel kind of bad for taking them, but no-one else was gonna use them."

"Aye, that's right Rome, don't ya feel bad about it ok?" Connor patted the Mexican on the shoulder.

Kerry took some rice, beans and tomato purée and told the group how she planned on making the squirrel into a chili. "It won't be too spicy, there's no chili, but it will taste great I promise."

Murphy spotted a handful of small glass jars among the cans, picking one up, he jogged after Kerry, "These any good darling?" he smirked as he handed her the chili flakes.

"They're more than good honey." Kerry smirked back, eyes burning on those sweet, Cheshire cat lips.


	6. Chapter 6 - Taken

**A/N - Lots of feels & action in this chapter, please if you're reading this, leave me a review, so I know if you're enjoying this fic or not. Thank you!**

**Lx**

For a moment that evening, there were smiles and laughter around the group's camp fire. Everybody gathered to eat the chili together, some enjoying it more than others.

"Fuck this is beautiful!" Murphy groaned, spooning another mountain full of the food into his mouth.

"Calm down there fatso, yer gonna bust out those jeans!" Connor laughed, swinging his arm across to playfully hit his twin's stomach.

Murphy swallowed the food in his mouth and snorted, "Fatso? There aint one bit of fat on me ya cheeky bastard!" he chuckled, jumping up to his feet and pulling his shirt up, revealing his toned, pale stomach.

Connor lunged at him, digging his fingers into his brother's belly and tickling him violently. Murphy roared with laughter, whilst showering out numerous cusses in English and other languages. The rest of the group laughed along, looking a little intrigued by the brother's closeness; Romeo wasn't fazed at all, he knew just how strong the men's bond was.

"Con! I swear, get the fuck off!" Murphy begged as his brother tackled him to the floor and pinned him under his legs.

"Who's the master!" the blonde howled, ruffling his twin's hair.

"Ah come on Connor! Ok, ok, ya win ya arsehole." Murphy breathed heavily, his lungs spent from the heavy tickling.

Connor climbed up off his brother and held out his hand to help him up. When they had both finished mucking around, they sat back in the circle of their friends.

"You know, you two have such a close bond." Kerry smiled, "You're both something else."

"Tá sé mo leath eile, ar ndóigh, tá muid gar." Connor looked into Murphy's eyes. "_He's my other half, of course we're close."_

"Táimid iontach le chéile ón tús." Murphy spoke softly. _"We've been together from the beginning." _

All eyes were on the twins, a mixture of confused and shocked expressions placed on the group's faces.

"You can speak other languages?" Lorna asked, "Was that Irish?"

"Aye, we can." Connor smirked.

"Aye, and tha' was Irish." Murphy concluded.

Daryl looked mind blown, "You know any others? French?" he asked.

Connor laughed, "Oui ami, je peux parler en plusieurs langues." His Irish accent changed dramatically to that of a french one. _"Yes friend, I can speak in many languages."_

"I bet you can't speak… " Lorna paused, thinking of a language, "Swedish."

Connor took his eyes from Daryl and locked them on the girl, a mysterious smile crept on his lips, "Jag slår vad om att jag kan. Du är den vackraste kvinnan jag någonsin har träffat. Jag kan inte sluta tänka på dig.." He wished he had the courage to tell her that so she could understand. _"I bet I can. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I can't stop thinking about you."_

Lorna's mouth opened, but no words came out. She just stared at the blonde Irishman for a moment, before trying to speak again, "Wow, that was… good. What does it mean?"

Connor felt stupid as he felt his cheeks blush a little. "Just asking what time the bus was due." He lied. Lorna just nodded and flicked her eyes away from him.

Just then, Murphy got up, a huge grin on his face. "I need ta go fetch something. Be right back." He called as he jogged into the trees, his knife ready in case he bumped into a biter. Connor was too busy blushing and feeling like an idiot to notice his twin was going until he was gone. His reign of panic finished before it began when he spotted Murphy returning with a guitar. Connor knew where this was going.

"Where the hell did ya find tha?" the blonde asked. He noticed the smug smile on Daryl's face.

"I found it last night in one of those cars. I got ya it and hid it in a bush." Murphy looked so pleased with himself, which made Connor's heart melt. "I know how much ya miss playing since; well since, you know." Murphy handed the instrument out to his brother.

Connor stood and took hold of the guitar; he thought he'd never play again seeing as he couldn't afford a guitar. He could feel himself welling up, "Come here ya big softy." He smiled at his twin. He pressed their bodies together, wrapping his arms around his brother's back. "Thank you, brother."

Murphy pulled away and pinched his brother's chin, "Don't get all emotional now dear brother, get playing before I take it back off ya."

Connor suddenly felt embarrassed as he realised his brother wanted him to play in front of everyone. He had only ever played in McGinty's in front of Murphy, Doc and Rocco and a couple of his old friends. It had helped that they were all drunk, but now he was standing before five eager and sober faces.

"Aye, ok. But I'll be a bit rusty." He murmured nervously.

He felt the weight of the instrument in his hands, sitting down and trying to find a position he was comfortable with. After a few practice strums, he began to play.

The whole group fell silent and watched in awe as Connor chose to play 'The one I love' by David Gray.

_"Gonna close my eyes_

_Girl and watch you go_

_Running through this life darling_

_Like a field of snow"_

Murphy was surprised that his brother was singing as well as playing the guitar. He had always known his twin had an amazing singing voice, but believe it or not, he was pretty shy about it.

_"As the tracer glides_

_In its graceful arc_

_Send a little prayer out to ya_

_'cross the falling dark"_

Daryl could tell the blonde Irishman felt uneasy and nervous singing. His ma had always forced him to sing to her friends when he was young, she liked to 'show him off' but he too was shy.

_"Tell the repo man_

_And the stars above_

_You're the one I love"_

Lorna watched Connor with admiration. She was having a hard time not jumping on him as it was, and now he was talking French, playing a guitar a _singing_. The flames from the campfire highlighted all the handsome features of his face; the deep pool of his blue eyes, his strong jaw line and those perfectly shaped lips. She thought it was ridiculous to be drawn in by someone so much after knowing them five minutes.

_"Perfect summers night_

_Not a wind that breathes_

_Just the bullets whispering gentle_

_'mongst the new green leaves"_

Romeo had never known about Connor's talents. He watched on in shock, along with Kerry. The two of them swayed along to his voice, enjoying the relaxing music.

When Connor finished, no-one spoke, no-ne cheered; the camp was silent, all eyes on the blonde.

"Shit, was I tha' bad?" he laughed nervously.

"Det var vackert." Lorna whispered in Swedish, a mischievous glint in her eyes. _"That was beautiful."_

Connor swallowed hard, the realisation hitting him hard in the guts. Lorna had just called him beautiful, and more frightening than that, she could speak Swedish and knew what he had said to her.

* * *

Before anyone could say anything else, the sound of a car speeding towards camp startled the group. A large, black jeep skidded to a halt in front of them, the headlights blinding them all. The passanger's side door opened, and a broad man with a bald head appeared. He looked dangerous from the start with his menacing face and blood stained hands.

"Nobody move!" bloodstains barked, "I will shoot any fucker who tries something!"

Connor and Murphy snapped into killer instinct, their fingers itching to reach for the Berettas sitting in their holsters. Kerry and Lorna desperately wanted to huddle together, but they sat frozen with fear only a few inches apart.

Bloodstains closed in on Romeo, who was sitting closest to the Jeep. "You will do just fine spick." He leered as he grabbed Romeo's chin with his dirty big hand. Connor could feel Murphy tensing up near him; he knew his brother was about to snap and protect his good friend at all costs. _Just wait dear brother; this is not the right time. _Connor chanted in his brain, trying to make Murphy hear his plea.

"My boss will enjoy you, he likes them dark." The vile man purred evilly. The man grabbed at Romeo's hair and pulled him towards the car. Murphy flew at the man like a lion, with no warning to his twin.

"Murphy!" Connor yelled as he made after his brother, matching his actions and pulling his guns out.

Murphy had pulled one gun out, and had his trusty blade in the other hand in the blink of an eye. "You take your filthy hands off him or I swear I'll take your eyes out with this!" the dark-haired whirlwind growled, waving the knife millimetres from the thug's face.

Connor aimed his gun at the man's head, "You don't want to mess with him," he started, he had recognised the Russian accent in the man's voice and took the opportunity, "You ever heard of the Saints of Boston?"

Bloodstains let his grip on Romeo go, the Mexican quickly whipped around and pointed his own gun at the man who had appeared from the driver's side. unfortunately, no-one had seen the other man exit from the back of the Jeep and run to wrap his arm around Lorna's neck.

"Hey! Put those weapons down and the little lady doesn't get her neck snapped." The skinny man with thick, greasy hair sneered.

Connor saw red and he lost it. He lunged himself at the greasy haired arsehole, inches away from ripping his face off, when a gunshot rang out. Connor felt the warmth of blood on his back just about the same time his brother screamed out his name. Lorna struggled under the man's headlock, her terrified eyes looking into Connor's. The expression on his face was blank, as his mouth dropped open.

"Mur-" and he dropped to the floor as fast as that, with a painful thud.

By this point bloodstains had grabbed Romeo again and shoved him in the Jeep. The driver took the chance to whack Murphy in the back of the head with the handle of his shotgun as the dark-haired screamed for his motionless brother.

Daryl raged towards the greasy hair with his crossbow ready, "Let her go you fucking arsehole." He spat, wild fury burning in his eyes. He only gave the man two seconds before he pierced a bolt right through his shoulder, making him let go of Lorna's neck.

Kerry tried to reach Murphy, but Daryl was pulling her back, "Stay here with Lorna, I need to get Rome."

Kerry ignored him and ran across the camp, running straight into danger. Blood stains grabbed her by her shoulder and had her thrown in the Jeep in seconds. The other man had Daryl cornered with his gun directly in his face. Daryl knew if he moved, the bastard would blow his brains out.

Lorna stood behind Daryl, sobbing at the sight of her friends laid lifelessly on the floor and at her other friends being kidnapped. Just then, a weak groan came from Connor.

Bloodstains marched towards Connor's body, laughing wickedly, "I see I didn't kill you instantly Saints freak. Just means I get to take you with me and kill you _slowly._"

He scooped the semi-conscious man up and threw him on the boot of the Jeep. Without warning, the man pointing the gun at Daryl's face whipped the weapon across the hunter's forehead, causing him to drop to the floor as he blacked out. Now only Lorna remained, playing dead on the floor next to the man who previously had her in a headlock.

The two men drove away with Kerry, Romeo and Connor with them. When the vehicle was out of sight, Lorna crawled to Daryl's side.

"Daryl! Please wake up!" she cried, shaking the man hard. The man coughed, his eyes struggling to open. After checking Daryl was alive, she remembered Murphy, and just how hard that bastard had clocked the back of his head. She crawled over to the Irishman, hoping to god that he would also be alive.

"Murphy, can you hear me?" she sobbed, shaking him like she had Daryl. He didn't respond, his body was limp and motionless. Lorna felt a presence behind her, she turned her head to find Daryl kneeling beside her. He looked dazed, his eyes rolling around in their sockets, as he tried to steady himself.

"He alive?" his voice slurred.

Lorna placed her ear on the twin's chest; she mouthed 'thank god' as she heard a faint heartbeat. "He's alive, but he had a massive blow to the back of his head." She ran her hand through his hair, checking it for blood or a wound, "He's lucky there's no cut, or he could have bled out."

The pair tried to ease their rapid breathing, as they sat next to Murphy, hoping that he would come round. Then it hit Lorna again, like a violent kick to the ribs.

"They've got Kerry, and Romeo," her eyes widened as panic set in once again, "Oh my god, they shot Connor! They're all gone!" she cried out.

Daryl wrapped his arm around the girl's chest, pulling her into his own, "Hush now, we will get them back, I promise. But now, Murphy needs our help and we need to keep quiet in case biters heard that gunshot."

Lorna nodded weakly, taking a moment to take comfort in Daryl's embrace. They decided that their best plan of action was to let Murphy rest for the night and hope he woke up before morning. Daryl was a good fighter, tracker and brilliant with his Horton and guns; but they knew they needed Murphy's skills. Most importantly, they needed the passion he held for his flesh and blood; because ultimately, that was the main reason that they would find the others.

They all huddled in one tent that night, no-one wanted to be alone and someone had to stay with sleeping Murphy. Lorna cooled the Irishman's head with a wet rag, and spoke to him softly, hoping he would wake up. The man's eyes scrunched up tightly, his mouth opening slightly as though he was trying to speak. Daryl noticed this too, he looked at Lorna worryingly.

"I wonder what he's thinking." Lorna whispered, stroking a hand through his hair.

_Murphy's eyes snapped open; he was alive, he was so sure that whack to his melon had killed him. He sat up slowly, looking for his brother; he wanted to show off about his latest injury, tell Connor that he was invincible and it didn't hurt a bit. Well, that was a lie, it was still throbbing now, but he wouldn't let his twin know that. _

_He struggled with the tent flap before stepping out into the camp. His eyes scanned the area, finally laying on Connor's figure walking into the trees. _

_"Con?" Murphy called after him. _

_Connor turned to look at his brother. As Murphy jogged closer, he saw the pain in his brother's face. That look was familiar; the shock, the fear. The memory of his dear brother being shot to the ground flooded over him, followed by a wave of nausea. Just then, Connor collapsed into a heap on the ground._

_"Connor!" Murphy yelled, dropping to his knees near his injured brother._

_Connor looked up into the face of his twin, "Ya shouldn't worry like ya do brother, ya'll get wrinkles." He coughed, holding a hand against Murphy's cheek. He felt a tear run down onto his fingers; his precious Murphy was crying, and he hated seeing him upset._

_"I'm so sorry Con, I'm sorry I let them shoot ya." He sobbed, placing his hands in his brother's messy blonde hair. _

_Connor coughed again, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Don't be fuckin' stupid Murph, none of this was ya fault." Connor blinked slowly, leaving his eyes shut for a moment before looking into his twin's eyes again. "Ya know I've always been proud of ya, no matter what I've said or done, you always made me proud to be ya brother." _

_Connor's eyes rolled to the back of his head, Murphy yelped, shaking his head, "Don't you fuckin' dare die Con, ya hear me?! Yer not leaving this shithole without me!" The shaking woke the blonde man up again, giving him just enough time to say his last words. "Save me Murph, I don't wanna die, not yet."_

_Then he was gone. Not dead, but just gone, vanished. Murphy sat on the forest floor, tears streaming down his pale face, his hands outstretched where they had just been in his brother's hair. A voice spoke out from within the trees,_

_"Wake up Murphy, you can do it, come on."_

_Murphy shook his head, "I don't wanna live without my brother." He cried out, his voice full of pain and fear, like an injured animal. _

_"We need you, Connor needs you. Come on Murph." The woman's voice called out again._

_Murphy laid back into the leaves, closing his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. He wished he would just slip away, so he could be with his brother. "Please let me be at peace, with him. Please god, he's all I've got, I can't live without him." He whispered, clutching onto to wooden cross on his rosary. He fell into a deep sleep, the images of his brother playing in his mind; Connor getting too excited over rope, the first time they killed as the Saints, the way his brother looked at him after their message from god in the police station._

"Murphy? Can you hear me?" Daryl patted the Irishman's cheek lightly.

Murphy's eyes flickered open, the pain in his head made him roll to the side to vomit. He felt like utter shit, but he sat up suddenly. "We need to find my brother, I need to bring his body back and bury him."

"He might still be alive, they all might. We're gonna find them, don't worry." Daryl growled, imagining himself putting a bullet through that Russian bastard's brain.


	7. Chapter 7 - Chains

**A/N - New chapter! I will warn you that this chapter is a little dark. Please, ****_PLEASE_**** review, let me know what you lovely people think!**

**Enjoy!**

**Lx**

_Drip, drip, drip. _Connor forced his eyes to open slowly, expecting the sun to blind him, but he was only welcomed by darkness. He tried to remember what had happened; the last he thing he could recall doing was running towards a man who had Lorna in a headlock, and then he'd heard a gunshot and everything went black. He came to the conclusion that it was himself who had been shot, the sudden realization of the burning pain in his back below his shoulder-blade a big giveaway.

"Fuckers." He growled feebly as he tried to feel his way around in the dark.

His hand hit something cold beside him, it felt like porcelain. When his opposite hand felt the same cold, hardness on his other side, he guessed he was probably in a bath. He tried to stay as calm as possible, but the fear of the unknown in the pitch black, and the agony of his gunshot wound weren't helping. He just knew that the arseholes that crashed their camp were responsible for him being here. A rustling nearby caught his attention, he listened carefully, hearing a small groan before someone spoke.

"Connor?" Romeo croaked.

Connor felt relieved and terrified at the same time. Relieved that he wasn't alone, but terrified that his friend sounded hurt.

"Rome, I'm here buddy." Connor whispered out into the darkness.

He could hear Romeo rustling some more, most likely trying to make out his surroundings. Then he heard a rattling, like metal clashing against something.

"Fuck Connor, I'm chained up!" Romeo gasped. The rattling grew loader as Romeo attempted to free himself.

"You need to keep _calm._" Connor hissed. He needed his friend to be quiet whilst he thought of a plan; that was his area of expertise. He thought of Murphy and how he had always picked faults with his extravagant plots. He could hear his voice clear in his mind.

_"Tha's stupid! Name one thing ya'll need a rope fer!"_

Connor would have chuckled at how much Murph sounded like a spoiled brat back then, when he was still innocent and young; but right now he was too focused on getting out of wherever he was, alive.

The Irishman slowly got to his feet, his hand reaching out in front of him blindly, until he could feel thin plastic material; a shower curtain. So he was definitely in a bath tub. He climbed over the edge of the bath as carefully as he could in the dark, but he slipped and landed on the floor with a thud, pulling the shower rail and dragging it down with an almighty crash.

"Shit." Connor grunted to himself, "It's ok Rome, was just me."

Romeo was pulling on his chains again, trying to get loose, the commotion Connor created had frightened the Mexican. Connor crawled across the floor, realising his jeans had gone when he could feel the rough concrete on his knees.

"What the fuck?" he hissed, wondering why those fuckers had undressed him.

He continued crawling, listening to Romeo's struggle, trying to hear where the sounds were coming from so he could locate his friend. His awkward journey across the floor came to a halt, when a door in the distance flew open and a bright florescent light flickered on.

Connor shielded his eyes from the sudden burst of light, Romeo yelped in shock. As the Irishman rubbed his eyes, footsteps echoed closer to him; then he felt the brute force of a fist hit him in his temple, sending him back over.

"You don't wanna try escaping my friend," sneered the familiar Russian accent, "Unless you want your eyeballs skewering out."

The mixture of the blow to the head and the vile comment made by the Russian made bile rise in Connor's stomach. He attempted to sit back up onto his feet, but another hard thud to his head sent him down again, his cheek crunching against the concrete.

Connor wasn't the toughest or smartest man alive; but he wasn't going to lie down and be quiet whilst some arsehole beat him to a pulp. He spat out the blood that was pooling in his mouth onto the floor beside him.

"What the fuck do ya want from us ya psycho fucker?" the Irishman growled, his speech was muffled as his cheek had already started to swell angrily.

Connor rolled onto his back to look up at the man. He let out a yell at finding the man's boot hurtling down towards his face; he stretched his neck to look to the side just in time, as the sole of the boot dug into the side of his head. The man applied just enough pressure to keep the blonde's head in place without stomping his brains out. However, the action still made Connor cry out in pain.

"You listen here, you Irish _fuck_. You treat me with respect or you get a razor through your gums. You got it?" the Russian spat.

Connor decided it best not to mouth back at the furious and mentally insane man who pressed his head between his boot and the ground. He let out a long breath he didn't realise he was holding, when the pressure on his head lifted. The relief was short lived as a blood-stained hand lunged towards him and took a tight grip on his neck. The Russian brought his evil, twisted face up against Connor's and he snarled as he strangled the helpless blonde.

"You best stay awake, or I'm gonna have some fun with your spick whilst your passed out." bloodstains laughed bitterly.

Connor could feel his eyes popping from their sockets as the man's grip around his neck grew tighter. He struggled and wriggled under the man's weight, but it was useless; he could feel his lungs straining as his vision became blurry. He battled against his mind's plan to black out, he didn't dare think of what this bastard was going to do to his friend once he was unconscious. All his efforts to stay awake were failing; he knew if he didn't give in the man would strangle him until he was dead. As his eyes rolled to the back of his head, he heard Romeo whimpering and calling out his name.

Then everything faded to black.

Daryl led the way through the woods, a torch in one hand and his knife in the other, his trusty Horton strapped to his back. Murphy walked alongside Lorna, he held on firmly to his precious Beretta, the other in his holster. He had offered it to Lorna, who assured him she was fine with the revolver Daryl had given her; she thought the Berettas were too big for her to handle.

Daryl stopped to check the tracks more closely. He looked at them for a moment, scratching his head, and then he turned to look at the others, "They've just stopped." He sounded exasperated.

Murphy growled and punched the tree to his side, causing Lorna to squeal with the sudden outburst. "Fuck! Where the fuck are ya Con?!" he yelled.

Daryl grabbed the Irishman's shoulder, "You need to keep it together man!" he snapped.

Murphy shook his shoulder free from the hunter's grip, "So what now?"

"We head back to camp, get some sleep, and start from here in the morning. If they've tried hiding their tracks, I might pick them back up in the daylight." Daryl replied.

"Come on, you both need to rest with those head injuries," Lorna started, "You'll be no good to no-one if you don't get some sleep."

Daryl nodded; Murphy sank down to the floor with his back against the tree he just attacked. He buried his face in his hands.

"I can't sleep knowing he's out there. He's my brother, my fuckin' twin brother. The both of ya don't understand!" he sobbed.

Lorna tried to comfort the man, but he was on his feet and marching back towards camp a second later. "We go out at the first light of morning, no later." Murphy barked.

Connor woke up to the most horrific noise; he knew the voice belonged to Romeo, he could tell that much, but he'd never heard him yelp and scream so shrilly before.

"Please!" Romeo cried out, his speech slurred.

Connor's head snapped up from where he was chained to a radiator. His friend was wrapped up in chains, sat in what looked like a dentist's chair. Bloodstains was accompanied by two other men; one was the man who raided their camp with the Russian, and the other Connor had never seen before. To the Irishman's horror, the men were sticking knives against Romeo's bare stomach, all of them laughing as they threatened to press the blades though his skin. One of the men, the one Connor had never seen before, moved his blade to stick it against the underneath of Romeo's chin.

"I think I would like to cut you here, leave my mark." The man growled; Romeo sobbed, his neck stretched and eyes fixed on the ceiling, "Or I could just ram it through into your mouth until you're swallowing it."

Connor growled, his throat was sore and burning. He tried to free himself; he could feel the fury bubbling up inside him. The other man that stood beside the Russian stormed towards Connor, grabbing a metal pole that leant against the tiled wall. Connor had no time to react before the pole came smashing into his belly, vomit spilled from his mouth before he could stop it, landing on the man's shoes.

"You fucking dirty Mick!" The man yelled, looking at the sick splattered on his feet. He swung the pole again and it made a sickening thwack against his knees, the bone underneath stinging from the bite of the metal. Connor cried out in sheer agony, tears threatening to pour down his cheeks. He wouldn't let them though; he wouldn't give these freaks the satisfaction.

"What do ya want from us?" the blonde croaked.

The Russian was now walking towards Connor, the other man with the blade to Romeo stayed still. Bloodstains now had his blade resting behind Connor's ear.

"All in good time Leprechaun, but now, you have some decisions to make." He snarled.

Connor gulped, trying to keep his composure. "What would they be then?" he murmured, fixing his eyes on the Russian's. Connor's glistening blues were so very different to the narrow, blood thirsty ones that belonged to Bloodstains.

"You need to make a choice; your ear, or his throat." The excitement in the Russian's voice was disturbing.

Connor panicked; he had to do what was right and sacrifice himself. He thought logically, in the minute he had to decide. He could live with one ear, but Romeo would die if he had his throat cut; and Connor would never live with himself if he made the wrong call. It was decided.

"Just cut it off, my ear! Just do it!" He spat, his eyes wide and blank like a frightened animal.

He felt the burning heat of the blade slicing into his ear lobe, the pain screaming into his brain mangled with the desperate, strangled cries leaving his throat.

It was over within minutes, but the pain seemed to last for an eternity. As the Russian roared with laughter, Connor noticed his ear lobe on the ground close by; the vomiting started again.

"Such a shame," the other man stood by Romeo called out, "I was looking forward to slicing this Spick up." He lowered his knife and grabbed the Romeo's chin in the other hand, forcing his mouth onto his and pushing his tongue into the squirming Mexican's mouth. He broke away and punched Romeo swiftly in the cheek. "Damn he tastes good." The man grinned before walking away.

The three men made for the door, switching the light off as they passed. "Don't think this is the end of it." Bloodstains growled, before slamming the door shut, plunging the pair into darkness once more.

Murphy tried to sleep, Lorna had drummed it into his brain that he needed rest; but he just couldn't get to sleep without knowing where his brother was. He worried for Kerry and Romeo too, of course he did, but his brother was his everything, and the only good thing he had ever had in his life. Instead of sleeping, he had plotted the deaths of the bastards that had his brother and friends. He was going to find his brother, he would be alive, and they would make those arseholes eat their bullets, like the good old days.

As the sun rose, Murphy woke Daryl and Lorna, insisting they went straight out to look. Lorna quickly made up a bag with some pre boiled water and some tins of food.

"Just in case we're gone over night, we should take a tent." Daryl had suggested.

Murphy just wanted to get going; the other two were wasting valuable time. "Come on, let's go!" he eventually snapped.

Daryl shoved the Irishman hard, "I get that you are worried about your brother, but being an asshole aint gonna find him quicker!" he growled.

Murphy didn't reply, he just gave the hunter a hard glare, his lip wobbled slightly as he fought back the tears. Daryl noticed the expression on the dark-haired man's face and apologised, explaining that he just needed to stay focused.

The threesome made their way back to the end of the tracks, and instantly Daryl spotted something. "They tried to cover the tyre tracks, but I can make out a faint set of footprints here, where the dirt is unsettled." He pointed to the tracks; the other two just looked dumbfounded. "Come on, we follow these, we'll find them for sure." The hunter promised; he always found whatever he was tracking.

Murphy took the confidence in Daryl's voice as a comforter; this man seemed to know his stuff, he threw all his trust into Daryl to find his beloved brother.

They walked for a several hours, only pausing briefly for water. After what seemed like forever, Daryl lifted his hand, signalling them to stop. Murphy looked past Daryl and saw the opening in the distance, the trees stopped and there stood an old factory of some sort on the field after the trees.

"My guess is they're in there." Daryl murmured, looking at Murphy.

Murphy waved his gun in front of him, a dark look laced onto his face, "Then let's get going."

They whispered to each other, trying to calm each other every time they heard banging form outside the room. Both of them fearing the men were coming back to cut something else off them. The last time the men had entered, Connor had to watch in horror as Romeo agreed to lose one of his fingers to prevent Bloodstains from cutting off the Irishman's hand. Connor would never forget the sounds that came from his friend at that moment.

"Rome, I swear ta ya now, I'm gonna get ya out of here." Connor whispered.

Romeo shuffled in his chains slightly, "How? We're fucked."

"You've gotta believe." Was all Connor could say. He wanted more than anything for the Lord to answer his prayers, to free him and his friend and to find his dear Murphy; but after the dead began walking the earth, he had a hard time believing God would let it happen.

They fell silent as they heard a woman crying out. The door flew open and the lights came on; the men dragged the woman into the centre of the room, between the chained men. Romeo called out when he realised that the terrified woman being dragged in was Kerry.

"Kerry! What have they done to you?!" Connor yelled.

Kerry looked at Connor, her eyes widened when she saw his battered body tied up to the radiator, her face was soaked with tears, but she looked untouched to the Irishman's relief. Kerry then looked at Romeo who was also still fastened into the dentist chair, "Rome?" she sobbed".

Bloody hands backhanded Kerry, causing her head to fly sideways.

"Fucker! Wait til I get outa these chains, I'm gonna smash yer ugly face in!" Connor roared, just as Romeo shouted a threat towards the men also.

"You _won't_ be leaving those chains Mick." Bloodstains snarled, "You're gonna die today."

Before Connor could reply, another man entered the room. He was tall and thin, slicked back grey hair on top of his head with a matching grey goatee. He was older than the rest of them, around sixty if not older. He would have looked like an innocent old man if it weren't for those dark, demonic eyes.

Demon eyes closed in on Connor, taking hold of his bruised chin with his frail hand, moving his face side to side as he inspected him.

"Yes, you will make an excellent sacrifice." the old man spoke coldly.

Connor spat in demon eyes face, his own eyes sharp and etched with disgust, "Fuck you old man." He growled.

Demon eyes wiped his face with a handkerchief and continued to talk as he circled the room towards Romeo, "You see in my religion, if the mighty one sends a challenge, such as the situation we're in now, we need to prove our loyalty to him." He examined Romeo in the same way he had Connor, "This is usually in the form of a sacrifice. You three lucky humans have an important role to play," he spoke with such calmness, that it scared Connor a little, "You will sacrifice yourselves, and end this apocalypse. You will be heroes."

"You're fucking insane!" Connor roared, struggling against his chains again. Kerry continued to cry, Romeo looked on with hate in his eyes for the men.

"We came across you, our sacrifices, by chance. We had to make sure you were the chosen ones, we beat you and tested your loyalties to one another, and now we know that we were right; we have found the chosen ones."

Connor had an idea, "Looks like ya haven't beat the lady, so how do ya know she was chosen. Just let her go, she isn't a sacrifice."

Demon eyes nodded at Bloodstains with a sinister smirk. The Russian ripped Kerry's blouse open, revealing bruises and long marks that made Connor think they had been whipping her. Kerry hung her head, tears splashing onto the floor.

"I didn't want to ruin such a pretty face Boss." One of the men beside the Russian snorted.

Connor fought against his chains harder, "Undo these chains! Let's fight man to man, I'm gonna knock yer teeth out!" He bellowed.

"No need brother, I'm gonna do tha' for ya."

Connor's head snapped towards the door, where his brother stood, Berettas ready in his hands, his face dark and furious.

The Russian went down with bullets in his chest before he could react; the man responsible for Kerry's beating went down with an arrow through his head. Daryl emerged from behind the doorway, his knife ready as he flew for the other henchman. The man managed to tackle the hunter to the ground, but Lorna ran in the room, her revolver pointing at the man's head.

"Do it!" Daryl yelled, and Lorna obeyed, putting a bullet into the man's skull. She gasped and dropped her weapon.

"Daryl, grab the old bastard! Murphy, unchain me, we need to kill him _our _way." Connor called out to the men.

Daryl got Demon eyes in a headlock as Murphy ran to let Connor loose. The pair ran to Romeo, freeing him from the chair. Murphy handed his brother one of his guns, and they took the man from Daryl's grip. Murphy punched the man hard in the face, his nose crunched under the Irishman's fist.

"Get ta ya fucking knees!" Murphy roared, kicking the back of the man's knees to make him drop.

The brothers stood behind the old man, their guns side by side, pressed into the back of the man's head. He didn't struggle, accepting his fate.

**_"And sheperds we shall be_**

**_For thee, my Lord, for thee._**

**_Power hath descended forth from Thy hand_**

**_Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands._**

**_So we shall flow a river forth to Thee_**

**_And teeming with souls shall it ever be._**

**_In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti._**

The gunshots rang out, Demon eyes dropped to the floor with a pathetic thud.

The pair pulled their rosaries from under their shirts, holding onto them in their hands as they stood in silence. Connor finally took his brother in his arms, holding him close and debating whether to never let him go.

"I thought I'd lost ya Con." Murphy wept.

"Hush now, I would never do tha' ta ya. I love ya." He whispered in his ear.

They let go of one another and took in the scene around them; Daryl was tending to Romeo, and Lorna sat on the floor, holding a hysterical Kerry.

Connor spotted his jeans crumpled up in the corner, his boots scattered near them; only then did he realise he was stood in only his shirt and boxers. He made his way to his clothes and got dressed; his body ached from his numerous beatings. He walked back to his brother, who was staring at Connor's face in disbelief.

"They did that ta ya?! They cut half ya fuckin' ear off?!" he roared.

"Aye, That one there," Connor pointed to the Russian's lifeless body, that was now soaked in blood. Murphy grunted as he booted the body sharp in the face.

"I wish I'd had the chance to kill him _real slow_." Murphy growled.


End file.
